Heart of a Girl
by calliope1975
Summary: Oliver and Felicity travel to Gotham for an routine business meeting. Unfortunately, nothing in Gotham is routine. (Thought I'd bring this over from AO3.)
1. Chapter 1

The first thing Felicity noticed about Bruce Wayne wasn't the impeccable suit, though he wore Armani well. It wasn't the firm handshake. It wasn't even the laughably insincere compliment he paid her. And it wasn't that he was an extremely attractive man. Though he was. A few inches taller than Oliver, thick, dark hair that was just on the verge of needing a haircut, patrician nose.

No, the first thing she noticed about Bruce Wayne was that he wore the same mask Oliver had when she'd first met him. That same dilettante, playboy demeanor that she would bet money covered up so much more. Maybe it was a billionaire thing. They probably had secret meetings where the rules were laid out and they practiced alternating between disingenuous charm and being superficial assholes to everyone.

Later, as she sat in one of Wayne Enterprises conference rooms, she watched the two men attempt to out smug one another. The amount of arrogance in the room had reached oppressive levels, but by the end of the meeting, it appeared they'd reached some sort of agreement to explore the possibility of working together.

She hadn't been needed for this meeting and slightly resented that Diggle had been allowed to stay home with the flu. She hadn't been surprised when he'd foregone the flu shot this year. Unfortunately, he'd lost that roll of the dice.

As this was purely Queen Consolidated corporate work with no extracurricular jobs planned, she'd made the case that she should stay home, too. Wayne Enterprises had assistants and she wasn't needed to coordinate his schedule or order bagels. Oliver apparently hadn't agreed with any of her excellent arguments and now she was stuck in Gotham.

Things with Oliver lately had been, well, tense. Spending all your time with the same two people was often difficult under the best of circumstances. When you added in a job you slightly resented and combined that with stress filled nights worried that your two favorite people were in mortal danger, it tended to take a lot out of a person.

That didn't mean she had any regrets signing on with Oliver's crusade. She didn't. She was just ready for a vacation.

So she'd spent the last two and a half hours hiding her tablet on her lap while she played Solitaire and sent Diggle funny gifs. Such a _perfect_ use of her skills.

Digg had sent Roger, the guard who was usually on Thea detail, for show, but Felicity knew he was pathetically easy to lose. She'd gotten a stern lecture that morning about the importance of obeying his directives when she'd shown up to Oliver's suite with donuts. Apparently, the donut shops in Gotham weren't to be trusted. She'd even offered a chocolate sprinkle in amends but he'd declined. Weirdo. Who could resist a chocolate sprinkle?

And now Oliver had some swanky charity shindig to go to tonight. And she had…a bunch of free time in a city she didn't really want to be in. She wasn't even 'allowed' to look into the vigilante that Gotham had running around.

She'd brought up the idea that this trip would be the perfect time to find out some more information about the person news organizations had been calling The Bat. But, in usual Oliver fashion, he'd shut her down, telling her he didn't want to invite trouble. She'd protested, but in truth, had already done a bit of investigating on her own.

She'd only been able to find some blurry footage and a few unreliable witness accounts. Barry had been right – black really was a better color for urban camouflage. Whoever this guy was, he was good at getting rid of evidence. She was pretty sure she was better but eventually decided this guy deserved the same amount of secrecy she wanted Arrow to have. For now.

As the meeting wrapped up, and the various executives decided upon a follow-up strategy, she went to window that looked out over Gotham. It seemed darker, more depressing than Starling City.

She felt him approach before she saw him. Maybe she was picking up her own ninja skills from Oliver by osmosis.

"Miss Smoak, enjoying our city?"

She turned to him and quickly plastered an equally fake smile on her face as the one she faced. "Well, I haven't really had a chance to explore yet, but I've heard good things."

"Are you attending the Annual Gotham City Children's Charities Fundraiser with Queen tonight?"

"Oh, um, no. I have been given the night off. I thought I'd head down to Gotham Square and see what I could find."

"Or you could accompany me," he said.

She prided herself on only gaping a second before replying, "As a date? Because frankly, this makes no sense."

Bruce smirked. "Yes, as a date. I admit to checking out the people I work with. You're intelligent, beautiful, have a free night, and I need a date."

Her eyes narrowed. "Is this about irritating Oliver? I don't really know your history together other than you're older than he is and you're familiar with each other from boarding schools. And whatever rarified club you billionaires live in. I mean, he didn't say that last part; that's my own conclusion."

"And if it was about irritating Oliver?" he mused.

Felicity wanted to take the high road. She might not be able to keep a thought in her head before it came out her mouth, but she generally had good intentions. And this, she knew, would not be the right thing. For so many reasons, the least of which was that she was in a mood where irritating Oliver seemed like a good idea. Luckily, good sense prevailed.

"I'm not a pawn, Mr. Wayne. Besides, I think his date is some lingerie model. Using me wouldn't even be a blip on his radar tonight."

Bruce looked over to where Oliver was talking to one of the women from the Applied Sciences department. Ever since he'd walked over to Felicity at the window, he could almost time it when he'd look up from whatever documents he was pretending to read and glare at them. It was quick and subtle, but it happened.

"You're right, of course. Any issues I have with Queen should be taken up with him. My offer, however, stands. So?"

She knew this was a bad idea. She knew Oliver was not going to be happy about this. But then again, he hadn't needed her _at all_ yet made her come anyway. Besides, her decision really came down to one thought. Did she ever want a time in her life to come where she had to tell someone that Bruce Wayne had asked her to be his date and she'd said 'No'?

She smiled, a real one this time. "What time should I be ready?"


	2. Chapter 2

Felicity had basically blown off Oliver when he suggested lunch after the meeting. She's said she had made some appointments and reminded him he had told her she would have the afternoon free. He'd frowned and tried to send Roger with her, but she rightly pointed out that she was basically anonymous in this town; he was the billionaire who needed protecting.

She's smirked at him and he'd been on the verge of getting growly, but Roger, bless his obliviousness, had agreed with her.

The shopping gods had been with her and she found a gorgeous midnight blue couture knock-off sheath dress with a beaded bodice and strapless sweetheart neckline. Combined with a new pair of heels, the outfit was out of her normal price range but wouldn't break her bank.

The second salon she'd tried had just had a cancellation so she was able to get a blow-out. She'd had the stylist part it on the left and leave it loose.

She'd made quick work of getting ready, opting for her contacts, and texted Bruce to meet her in an alley a block away from the hotel. She hadn't wanted to risk running into Oliver as she was leaving. That would get awkward and she wasn't ready to deal with him.

They'd fought more recently. Mostly about his recklessness and his tendency to return injured. Sara had been in town more often, and she was grateful when she could provide an extra hand.

It also seemed that the crime in town wasn't abating. More and more "super soldiers" were popping up, and she hadn't been able to trace who was funding them. Everyone was on edge, and she suspected until they were able to take down this person or persons, it would remain that way.

A sleek, black Maserati pulled to the curb, and Bruce hopped out to open the passenger door for her. They pulled out into traffic and headed into midtown.

"You know, this isn't normally how I treat my dates."

She winced. "I know, I know. I mean, I really don't know, but I can assume. Sorry, this just seemed easier. But please. Feel free to impress me or whatever's your usual."

He laughed. "You look beautiful. I will be the envy of every guy there tonight."

She grinned, "You are off to a good start."

"What's one of MIT's top graduates doing as Queen's personal assistant?"

She glanced over at Bruce's inquisitive look. "Haven't you heard? I'm sleeping with him. Quickest way to the top," she said acerbically.

He gave her a bemused smile. "For some reason, I think there's more to it than that. You're not the social climbing type."

"There's a type?"

The look he shot her was loaded with meaning. "There's a type."

Well, he would know, she figured.

She decided to answer honestly. "He needed someone he could trust."

He studied her. "Fair enough. I know the importance of that."

He asked a few more questions about how she'd ended up at Queen Consolidated and how she'd met Oliver, but she had an odd feeling he already knew the answers. He had said he'd checked her out.

"And how does People's Most Eligible Bachelor, which I'm pretty sure was two years running, not have a date?"

"You're right; I could have gotten a date. Even at the last minute. But you intrigued me. It's clear that you're much more than Queen's assistant." At her outraged look, he continued, "That's not what I meant. I just said I don't believe any of the rumors."

She relaxed into her seat but was still frowning. "But you've _heard_ the rumors," she mumbled.

"You're smart. And while I'm sure you're a good EA, you're true talents are clearly being wasted."

"If you're trying to recruit me, I have to tell you now I'm not interested."

"I'm not, though I probably should be."

"Then I don't exactly understand."

He'd pulled up to the valet line at the hotel where the party would be held but merely put the car in park and waved away the valet. Looking over at her, he said, "How about we put aside any ulterior motives you think I might have and just enjoy tonight. The money goes to a Boy's Home that's one of my favorite charities."

She considered him briefly before agreeing. "Okay, but I have a condition of my own. Lose the front. I don't know you very well, or at all really now that I think about it, but I do know that Playboy Bruce Wayne isn't who I want to spend the night with…I mean party. Spend the party with. You be you, the real you, and I'll be me and hopefully, this won't be a disaster. Deal?"

She stuck her hand out across the stick shift. He stared at her for what seemed like an eternity before something shifted in him. He grabbed her hand, looked her straight in the eye, and responded, "Deal."


	3. Chapter 3

Thirty minutes later, Felicity was having a wonderful time. This new Bruce was an interesting guy. There was something about him she still couldn't put her finger on, that he wasn't actually being himself, but he was genuinely charming instead of the fake veneer he'd had on before. And he was also really good at finding the good hors d'oeuvres before the other guests had a chance to eat them.

Plus, there was the fact that while he had looked good in a business suit, he looked even better in black tie.

Bruce introduced her as a friend from Starling City, and the reactions from Gotham's elite amused her. The women eyed her speculatively with flashes of both envy and contempt while the men looked at her like she was fresh, easy game. She enjoyed the looks of barely concealed surprise when she spoke and showed she actually had a brain. It reminded her of how people treated her when she was with Oliver, though she was even more easily dismissed since she worked for him.

Bruce was more tech savvy than she was expecting, and they'd had an interesting conversation on voice recognition control and proximity, and she offered to forward him some recent research she'd read on the subject.

They mingled easily through the party, and she watched in fascination as Bruce would slip in and out of his public persona. The similarities to Oliver were uncanny, and she wondered, not for the first time, how she got herself into this situation.

She was working on her second glass of wine when she felt him enter the room. Like someone drawing fingers up her spine. It was like that every time. At work. At the foundry. At first, it had been enjoyable. A bit thrilling. It had just been a crush.

Then it had become something more, or at least, she began to think it _could_ be something more. But he'd shut that down fast after Russia. And she'd accepted it. She understood his reasons even if she didn't agree with them. She didn't understand, though, why he continued to touch her all the time - the shoulders, forearms, back.

Or why he'd been a complete asshole to Barry. He'd made amends and grudgingly accepted the man who'd saved his life, and while she appreciated that, it didn't excuse it. And now he'd dragged her on this trip for absolutely no reason. If he needed a friend, all he had to do was ask. But he still held her at arm's length, still kept his secrets.

Bruce felt her tense slightly and looked up to see Queen and a beautiful brunette enter. "Ahh, Anastasia."

Felicity glanced up as well. "You know her?"

"Anastasia Lee. We've met. Remember that type we spoke of before."

"Oh."

"Yes, 'oh'. But I'm sure Queen's had his own experience with that type."

"He could write a book," she quipped.

Bruce looked between Oliver and Felicity. "Unrequited romances rarely end well," he said softly.

She glanced up at him. "I'm well aware. And I'm not…I mean…I don't have a thing for him or anything." Even she didn't think that was convincing, but he was nice enough not to call her on her lie.

Bruce plucked her wine glass from her hands and gave it to a passing waiter. He then took her hand and wordlessly walked her to the dance floor. They slowly swayed silently to the orchestral music.

A new song began and Bruce twirled her out before bringing her in closer.

"For what it's worth, he's a fool."

A rueful laugh escaped. "Not really, no. He's had a rough time of it. He's not ready for anything serious."

"And when he is?"

She frowned slightly. "It doesn't mean it would be with me."

"Then, as I said before. Fool."

She smiled and he spun her around again. Unfortunately, it was right into someone's chest. Hands came out to steady her and she looked up into Oliver's blue eyes. Felicity looked over her shoulder at Bruce who still had a hold of her hand. "You did that on purpose. That's just mean," she hissed.

He smirked back in response and raised an eyebrow. She watched the façade descend over him. "Queen," he boomed. "I'd forgotten you would be here tonight."

"Hmm. That's odd since we discussed it earlier." Oliver's hands tightened on her shoulders, and she gently moved one of his hands and stepped away back towards Bruce.

The two men stared at each other, one stare intimidating, the other self-confident and superior. And when Bruce's hand curved possessively around her hip, Oliver's eyes narrowed, and she scoffed at both of them.

"Both of you need to stop. Now. People are starting to stare," she said, her voice low. "_Your_ _date_ is over there looking annoyed. Go and _fix that._" She then poked Bruce. "And _you_ are going to find me more mac and cheese cups."

Neither man broke the stare until she physically dragged Bruce away. "Seriously? Are you two five? What the hell was that about?"

"Seems you're more than a 'blip on his radar.'"

Felicity laughed derisively. "He's just mad I didn't tell him I'd be here. Why are you two so hostile anyway?"

"We had a few run-ins in our younger days," Bruce replied.

"Then why would you ever entertain working together?"

He grinned. "Never let personal relationships get in the way of business."

"Well, you two need to get over it. I really don't want to show up in the tabloids tomorrow because two rich boys started brawling. And trust me, you do not want to get in a fight with Oliver."

She had a suspicion that Oliver wouldn't pull his punches with Bruce. At his curious look, she responded vaguely, "He survived on an island for five years," as if that explained something.

"Hmm. Interesting." He led her to an outdoor terrace.

"I should warn you, though. You'll end up in the tabloids tomorrow regardless. It's a casualty of showing up with me."

She closed her eyes and sighed. "Great. Now I'm sleeping with two billionaires."

She opened her eyes and found Bruce amused. "At least you have good taste."

A laugh escaped. "Yeah, I guess I do."

She caught movement out of the corner of her eye and wasn't surprised to see Oliver join them. He looked at her and she couldn't read his expression. "Can I speak with you?"

Bruce slid next to her and cocked his head at Oliver. "Sure, Queen. What can I do for you?"

Felicity rolled her eyes when Oliver's jaw tightened. She pushed Bruce towards back towards the party. "I'm so thirsty," she exaggerated. "Please get me something to drink." If these two were going to act like children, she would have to treat them as such.

She knew she'd reflect back on the day and marvel how she ended up here. The girl with the frizzy ponytail who taught herself how to write code didn't end up between rival business magnates. And that girl definitely didn't order them around or demand drinks.

She focused back on Oliver when she heard her name.

"Felicity," he exhaled. He sounded more weary then angry, and she began to feel a bit bad about this entire situation. She should have told him she was attending with Bruce. Guilt began creeping in.

"What are you thinking?"

Well, there went that feeling. "What am I _thinking_? I am _thinking_ that my _boss_ is being a complete _ass_ right now. I am _thinking_ that I don't know why you're out here with me when Ms. Victoria's Secret is waiting for you inside."

"She's never modeled for Victoria's Secret," he mumbled.

Her eyes narrowed. "Is that really relevant right now?" He at least had the grace to look contrite.

"Look. I'm just concerned."

"And I appreciate that. But there's nothing for you to be concerned about. By this time tomorrow, we'll be home and things will be back to normal."

He looked like he wanted to say more but merely nodded to Bruce when he returned with a glass of water. She gave Oliver a look telling him to leave. He returned it with one saying they'd be revisiting this conversation. Their wordless discussions were getting longer. Sometimes, she hated knowing him so well. But only sometimes.

He turned and left without acknowledging Bruce.

She smiled at Bruce but it was strained.

"Hey. I've got about another half hour before we can leave. There's a little Italian place that makes the best tiramisu I've ever had. How about we change and meet up there around 9? I have a few more questions about that robotics article you mentioned."

She was grateful for the out. There weren't any real sparks with Bruce, but she liked him, and she wasn't quite ready to call it a night. He was intriguing, and it was nice to be with someone who was so attractive and intelligent. Who didn't pull her close with one hand and look at her like salvation before pushing her away with the other.

"That sounds wonderful."


	4. Chapter 4

_Thanks so much for all the comments. I appreciate them all. I hope you're enjoying reading this as much as I'm enjoying writing it. _

Felicity kicked off her heels immediately after closing her door and spread her toes in the carpet letting out an audible sigh. After a few more dances, drinks, and one delicious mini cheesecake, Bruce had dropped her off at the hotel. He had a condo nearby where he was going to change and offered to pick her up, but she told him she'd meet him at the restaurant.

She needed a bit of breathing room to regain her equilibrium. The entire day had been more than a little surreal.

She clicked on one of the lamps near the dresser and reached around to grab the dress zipper.

"Have fun?"

She whipped around towards Oliver who was sitting in a chair by the window. In the dark. "Jesus, Oliver! What the hell? This is weird even by your standards. I knew I shouldn't have given you the spare key."

He stood up and all but stalked over to her. "You can't trust him."

"Bruce? Well, I wasn't planning on telling him all my secrets, or yours, but thanks for the concern. He asked me out. I accepted. I enjoyed myself. The end. Well, almost the end. How did you even get here before me? And what did you do with your date?"

He ignored her questions and while his stare would have unnerved others, she'd been on the receiving end too many times. She rolled her eyes and gestured at him. "Stop…whatever this is. I'm meeting him for dessert. So I need to change and you need to leave."

"That's what he's calling it," he muttered.

She wondered how much her hand would hurt if she hit him. Probably a lot. He had a hard head. She brushed past him and turned towards her suitcase, grabbing a pair of jeans and a long sleeved knit top. Entering the bathroom, she said, "You need to be gone when I'm done."

She quickly changed and freshened up her makeup. She decided her blue heels with the leopard print would dress up the jeans just enough that she wouldn't feel too underdressed.

She opened the door and bounced off Oliver's chest. "You're still here," she gritted out.

He gently grabbed both her shoulders and looked her in the eyes. "I don't trust him. With you."

Her shoulders fell as her insides knotted up and she closed her eyes. The push and pull between them was exhausting.

She reached up and laid a hand on top of one of his and stared directly into his eyes. "You just need to trust _me_."

He walked away from her and ran a hand through his hair. "You know I do."

She smiled slightly before putting on her heels and grabbing the clutch she'd used for the party. She looked up at him with sad smile. "Then you need to _let me go_," she said quietly and deliberately.

She couldn't look at him before she left the room. She didn't see the drained, wounded look on his face. She didn't see him sink down to sit on the bed. And she never heard him say, "I can't."

Felicity pushed the elevator button for the lobby and leaned against one of the mirrored walls. She pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. She'd meant to grab a hair tie so she could get it out of her face when it inevitably began to bother her, but she'd forgotten it. And there was no way she was going back up to her room in case Oliver was still skulking in the dark.

Why was he being so stubborn? She'd figured out there was no love lost between him and Bruce, but his behavior at the fundraiser and a few minutes ago had bordered on absurd. If she didn't know better, she'd think he was jealous. But even if he was, he didn't get to hold her at arm's length and then dictate her romantic life.

The doors opened and she headed towards the lobby, but stopped as she passed the bar. She pulled her phone out of her clutch and found she had around thirty minutes to kill. And she would do so. With a drink. Partly to gear up for another date with Bruce Wayne, but mostly to avoid thinking about Oliver.

She took a seat at the bar and caught the bartender's eye. She smiled when he came over, an involuntary shiver running through her. The vent above her blasted a stream of cold air.

"What can I get for you?"

His nametag said "Rick" and he looked to be around her age. He had shaggy blonde hair and a badly groomed goatee. He also seemed a bit nervous.

"Vodka rocks, please." She wasn't driving, may as well go all out.

"What brings you to Gotham? Staying long?"

"Hmm? No, just passing through. I was here about a job," she hedged, thinking about how she wasn't going to think about Oliver.

"Did you get it?"

"I don't know. Maybe." She rubbed her temple. A headache had started to form. Her mind was too full, and if she'd been paying attention, she would have noticed it odd that Rick was sweating in such a cold room.

"Are you meeting someone?"

She looked up. "Would you believe I have a date with Bruce Wayne?"

Rick's smile faltered. "Really?"

Felicity waited a beat before laughing. "No. I'm here alone. But wouldn't that be something. Just going to grab a cab and take it to Gotham Square. See if I can find some trouble to get into."

Rick's hand shook a touch as he set the lowball glass in front of her. A small amount of vodka sloshed onto the bar, and Rick quickly apologized and wiped the spill. Felicity took a drink and felt the bitter liquid burn down her throat.

She took her time with her drink, but twenty minutes passed before she knew it. She threw $20 down on the bar and waved a hand good bye towards Rick who was at the opposite end of the bar.

Sliding off the stool, she was surprised when she stumbled. A wave of dizziness washed over her, but she shook it off, chalking it up to her increasing headache. She left the bar and headed towards the glass doors of the lobby. The edges of her vision blurred and she paused when she felt a hand on her arm. Confused, she looked over to find Rick standing next to her. He moved his hand to her elbow and tugged her towards the doors.

She frowned at him, her thoughts muddled. "Wha…" her tongue felt thick.

"Hey, you look a little wobbly. Let's get you into a cab." A few guests looked their way, but Rick staved them off saying loudly, "She had a little too much tonight."

He smiled to the bellman holding the door and propelled her to the edge of the driveway into a waiting cab. She tried to protest but her limbs were heavy and wouldn't obey her directions.

She hit her head on the top of the door and fell to her side on the seat. Rick looked to the driver and nodded.

Before shutting the door, he leaned in and took her clutch. "Sorry. It's nothing personal."

Felicity struggled to lift her head but couldn't muster more than a slurred protest. As she lay slumped on her side, she thought that Digg's self-defense training hadn't covered drugging. Which was kind of ironic considering the number of times one of them had been poisoned. Her last thought was that Oliver wouldn't find that amusing.


	5. Chapter 5

_We finally get to Oliver's POV. Poor guy. Note: This isn't a dark fic. Felicity's in danger, but she won't be too badly harmed._

Oliver was in his hotel suite looking out the bay of windows at the glittering lights of Gotham trying to rid his brain of the image of Bruce's hand on Felicity's hip. He'd given Roger the rest of the evening off promising he'd be in contact if he decided to leave his room.

It wasn't that Felicity couldn't date whomever she wanted. It was just that none of the men she'd shown interest in were good enough for her.

Barry was a child. Sure, they understood each other's technobabble, but that wasn't enough to sustain a relationship. He appreciated the whole saving his life thing. It didn't mean he could be trusted with everything, or everyone.

Mark in Accounting had been seeing three other women. Felicity hadn't been impressed or grateful when he'd shared that information. She'd said she had already known and that she didn't care because it wasn't serious. That made no sense to Oliver; she deserved someone who wanted it to be serious.

And now there was Bruce Wayne. He could admit that they didn't get along because they were so similar. Or, they had been similar before he'd decided to go on a yacht trip and ended up fighting for his life for five years. But he wasn't that kid anymore. Bruce hadn't had such an experience to change him.

He'd seen Bruce's interest in Felicity immediately. He'd held her hand just a bit too long when they'd met. And his gaze had landed on her one too many times during the meeting. When Bruce approached her at the end of the meeting, Oliver assumed Bruce would hit on her and Felicity would decline. He'd never expected her to agree to go out with him.

He'd been disappointed that they hadn't spent the afternoon together but knew she was entitled to free time. They spent the majority of their waking hours together, and Felicity only missed work if she was extremely ill which was rare. He didn't think she'd ever taken a vacation except for one long weekend when she'd gone to visit her parents.

He had tried to patrol the first night she'd left but had called it off after only a few hours. It hadn't felt right without her. He'd stayed in and trained with Diggle until she returned.

Contrary to popular belief, he wasn't oblivious. He knew that Felicity had been less than happy with him lately. She didn't like her fake job. She didn't like the rumors and gossip that were spread about her. And lately it showed. It was in her brusque morning greetings. In the way she didn't stick around after a mission was finished. How she pulled back her hand when she was about to touch him.

It was those touches that he missed the most. He'd been uncomfortable at first, and his instinct was to recoil. For too many years, letting people close meant pain, both physical and emotional. But she'd persisted. A shoulder touch. His arm. Holding his hand while John patched up one wound or another. Until he'd grown to crave them. Not to mention how he couldn't seem to keep his hands off of her. It was easy to lose himself briefly in one night stands, but she was the only one that actually made him feel something.

Diggle thought he was jealous. He hadn't said it outright, but he heard the accusation in every smirk, in every disapproving shake of his head when he asked him to look into one of Felicity's dates. Is that what this was? He honestly didn't know what jealousy felt like. For his entire life, if he wanted something, he either got it or he took it. Toys, women, things. He hadn't had any responsibility or accountability. He'd always been a selfish man.

Things were different now. He cared what certain people thought about him. He cared about being a disappointment. He didn't believe he was a hero, but he liked that Felicity saw him as one.

He also knew he could have let her stay home instead of accompanying him on this trip. He hadn't needed her as an assistant, or as his tech support, but he didn't know how to tell her he needed her as a friend. He supposed if he had just asked she probably would have agreed to come with him. And he wouldn't have had to endure a five hour uncomfortable plane ride.

He also hadn't wanted to take Anastasia to the charity ball. What he'd wanted to do was find some out of the way restaurant and listen as Felicity talked about stuff he didn't understand and rambled until it made him smile.

But the CEO of Queen Consolidated couldn't be seen dating his assistant. Or, that's what he told himself. It was easier than taking a hard look at how he really felt about her. About what she'd see if he laid himself bare before her. If she knew the extent of his time on (and off) the island, would she look at him differently? In those rare moments he allowed himself to be honest with himself, he could admit he was afraid. Afraid the affection and admiration would turn to disgust and disappointment.

So, he'd called up a model he'd slept with once upon a time and asked her to accompany him. The gossips would eat it up and with any luck leave Felicity alone. He had hoped he could leave the ball early and still catch Felicity for a late night ice cream room service binge. She was partial to mint chocolate chip.

In hindsight, he probably should have mentioned those plans to her.

Instead, he'd walked into that ballroom, saw Felicity on the dance floor with Bruce Wayne, and felt like he'd been sucker punched.

He hadn't been thinking when he'd left his date at the entrance and headed for the couple. He wasn't sure what his goal had been. He just needed to stop…whatever was happening. He couldn't figure out Bruce's play. Felicity wasn't exactly his usual type. And his act, and it had been an act, didn't make sense.

She'd told him to trust her. He did. He trusted her with everything.

He didn't trust himself.

He leaned his head to either side, cracking his neck. Something…no, _someone_…had to change.

He was on the verge of going back to Felicity's room to wait for her return when his phone rang. Every time his phone rang or vibrated with a text he'd hoped it would be from Felicity. He'd been disappointed each time.

He scowled when he saw Bruce's name on the display. It had taken every amount of self-control he had to stop himself from punching the smug look off Bruce's face earlier.

He answered the phone with a curt, "What."

"Did you stop her from meeting me?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Felicity was supposed to meet me an hour ago. She never arrived. Have you seen her?"

Oliver felt his stomach drop. "The last I saw her she was headed out to meet you."

There was silence on both their ends. Oliver was already headed out his door towards her room down the hall. He knocked once before pulling her spare key out. It was as he'd left it.

"Dammit. She's not in her room. She hasn't contacted you?"

"No. Look, I'm sure it's nothing, but I have some contacts at the GCPD. They can…"

"Whatever. I have to go." He ended the call and stopped in front of the vanity. Staring at his reflection, he willed himself to calm down. He wasn't going to be any help to her if he panicked.

He tried her cell first; it rang several times but eventually went to voice mail.

He ran down the list of what he needed to do. One – turn on her phone GPS so he could track it. Two – try to access the hotel security footage. A hundred variables flew through his mind but he kept coming back to one certainty. Find her and end whoever had her.

Opting for the easiest methods first, he went to the lobby and showed a few desk clerks the picture he had of her on his phone. He made up some excuse about how he thought they were supposed to meet.

They were all eager to assist Oliver Queen, but only one recognized her. He said he'd seen her leave earlier drunk with a guy. At Oliver's glare, he quickly backtracked and tried to be more diplomatic. He had recognized the guy as a new bartender, but when Oliver asked to speak to him, he was told he'd already left for the evening. Calls made to reach him went unanswered.

Oliver ground out a thanks for their assistance and declined any additional help.

He stopped by her room and grabbed her laptop, powering it on as he entered his room. She'd given him her password and taught him a few things for emergencies, but he hadn't ever really believed he'd need to use that information. Now, he was glad he'd paid attention.

Activating her cell tracker, he waited impatiently for the icon to display on the screen. He watched the map narrow down to a region less than five miles from their hotel. It was an area he doubted Bruce knew existed, let alone a place he'd take a date he wanted to impress. He pulled up a satellite view of the area, and even Google maps couldn't make the buildings look less neglected and dirty.

Oliver grabbed the duffle bag he'd shoved in the back of the small closet. The duffle matched his other luggage so there hadn't been any questions. Felicity didn't know he'd brought his gear. He hadn't anticipated any trouble; he just felt better, more secure when it was easily accessible. Paranoia wasn't a fun lifestyle, but tonight, it had its uses.

He pinpointed the signal and mapped out the most efficient way to get there. He'd take a cab across the river into The Bowery. From there, it would be easiest to change and travel on foot. Adrenaline was already coursing through his veins.

He closed his eyes and mentally stilled himself. With a final sigh, he opened them, Oliver Queen gone, The Arrow in his place.


	6. Chapter 6

_There's no way I could have Arrow go to Gotham and not have Batman show up! Now, they have to get their favorite girl back. I hope you enjoy. And stay warm if you're anywhere that's cold._

Oliver flew across the rooftops heading north on Sprang Street towards Park Row. Or Crime Alley as it was known locally? Crime Alley? Really? At least The Glades sounded like a nice place. Gotham wasn't even trying.

It took every bit of mental reserve he had to keep his calm. He could do this; he could find her. He _would_ find her. Alive. Safe. Anything less was not an option.

He'd forgotten what it was like to do this alone. He was used to Felicity's constant chatter, to John's occasional statements and guidance that kept him on track. He took them both for granted, he knew that. He'd do better. He'd let them know he appreciated them. They'd make contingency plans so something like this would never happen again. But he couldn't do that if he lost her.

He skidded to a stop on Rick's building, and checked his phone display. The signal and Rick's address matched up.

He landed on the fire escape with minimal noise and peered inside. The only light source came from the television. An old couch sat behind a coffee table littered in take-out trash and cigarette remains. He could only see one person in the room lounging on the couch. He matched the picture he'd pulled up from Rick's Facebook account. Seems even scum used social media.

Oliver tried the window. It was locked but the wood was rotting and easy to jimmy open. He drew an arrow from his quiver and sent it into the side of the television. He easily nocked another arrow and faced Rick.

"Richard Stallman. The blonde. Where is she?"

Rick yelled and scrambled up the back of the couch falling behind it. He tried to run towards the door and received an arrow in his shoulder for his efforts. He fell to his knees, and Oliver grabbed him by his shirt, hauled him up, and slammed him against the wall.

"Where is she?" he repeated.

"Please don't kill me. I…I…I…didn't know. I owed them money. She wasn't anyone special. She was visiting. I didn't think she'd be missed."

Oliver's eyes narrowed and he moved his hand to grab Rick's throat.

Something small and metal struck his arm grabbing his attention. He tensed, looked to his left, and found himself looking at a dark clad figure with a cape that billowed out around him. So this was The Bat. Black body armor covered him from head to toe. Utility belt. He could almost make out some type of symbol on his chest. All but his mouth and chin were covered by a cowl. Oliver thought he looked a bit ridiculous with the ears and the cape and all.

A low, gravelly voice said, "Heard you could use some help."

Oliver looked at him from beneath his hood warily, but he was desperate. "A friend is in trouble. I tracked the cell here." He tightened his grip on the guy's throat. "Rick was about to tell me where I can find her."

"You're both crazy," Rick strangled out, his eyes frantically darting between the two men.

Oliver turned his gaze back to him. "Then I suggest you cooperate. Where is she?" he growled.

"I don't know!"

The small amount of control Oliver was holding onto fled and pulled his arm back and punched Rick. The crunch of bone breaking was quite satisfying. Peripherally, he saw his black clad associate canvassing the living room.

The Bat appeared at his side holding a large shoebox filled with phones, wallets, and one distinctive clutch that Oliver recognized as Felicity's.

"Which family?" The Bat asked.

"I can't. They'll kill me."

The Bat cocked his head. "And what makes you think we won't." Even Oliver felt a chill at the lack of emotion in his voice.

Rick looked between the man in black and the man in the green hood. One completely dispassionate; the other filled with rage. Tears filled his eyes.

"M…M…Maroni. They're working with the Five Fingers. But I don't know where they take 'em. This is the first time I ever, um, did anything like this. I swear! " Oliver looked at The Bat who nodded. A few more jabs and one calculated punch had Rick sliding unconscious to the floor.

Oliver grabbed Felicity's clutch and found her phone inside. He threw both to the bottom of the quiver.

"Who was he talking about?"

After a slight hesitation, The Bat responded. "Maroni's a local crime family. They recently orchestrated an acid attack on our District Attorney. Nasty bunch. The Five Fingers are a low-level street gang. They're not known for working together."

"Why would they take her?"

"Why does anyone take a beautiful woman?"

Oliver felt sick and closed his eyes. He was out of his element and hated feeling out of control. His only option was to put his trust in the man standing before him.

Opening his eyes and focusing, he asked, "What now?"

The Bat headed towards the open window. "Maroni has several warehouses on this side of town. Most are operational businesses covering his criminal activities. But there are two holdings that were raided last year that never reopened."

"Where to first?"

Once on the fire escape, The Bat gave Oliver a calculated look. He must have gotten whatever answer he was looking for because he answered, "Lemmars and 78th. Keep up."

Ten minutes later, Oliver grudgingly admitted this guy knew what he was doing. He traveled quickly but quietly, knew which traffic and building cameras were active and how to avoid them, and easily evaded any pedestrians. They mostly stuck to the rooftops, but there had been a few spots where that hadn't been possible.

The first warehouse they'd checked had been vacant except for a few guards. Oliver's patience was already paper thin and finding nothing was not helping.

The second warehouse was mere blocks away and they reached it minutes. Dim lights shone from within and there was a much heavier guard presence. They split up and inspected the building before meeting atop a rooftop across the street.

There were four entrances with a guard at each. As they watched the building a large delivery truck drove up. One of the guards opened the bay door revealing an empty interior. Two more guards showed up. Oliver noticed The Bat cocking his head. When the three men below split up, he said, "They're preparing to move. They've got 3o people inside and a shipping container waiting for them on Dixon Docks. This is our best bet."

"You heard that?" He only received a stare in response.

Oliver pulled a cable arrow from his quiver and took aim at the building. Before he could let go a hand grabbed his shoulder throwing him off balance.

"What are you doing? We are running out of time."

"You'll do what I tell you to do."

Stress, adrenaline, and fear had Oliver lashing out with a right hook that was easily blocked.

"This is _not_ your city, and you _will_ listen to me."

"And I will _burn it to the ground_ if that's what it takes," he yelled back.

The Bat regarded him silently before stating. "You will enter from the east alley; I'll come in from the roof. Take out the lights, then take out the guns. GCPD will be notified in ten minutes that there's a fire at this location. Meet me on the roof in fifteen." He turned to walk away.

"Wait. My friend…she's blonde, about 5'…"

"I know. Someone will be waiting to take her once we get her out."

Oliver didn't like this. There were too many variables, too much missing information. And he was putting his trust in a man who dressed up like a bat. Realizing he didn't have any other choice, Oliver aimed again and let the arrow fly.


	7. Chapter 7

Felicity came to abruptly. She was lying on a concrete floor in a small room. She looked around and guessed it was an office from the desk and filing cabinets. From the dust that covered everything, she figured it hadn't been used lately.

She sat up slowly and leaned against the wall. Her head was pounding and she had a bitter, metallic taste in her mouth. She coughed a few times which only made her headache worsen, and her throat was raw and dry. She looked for a phone on the desk but didn't see one.

"Okay, Smoak, how are you going to get out of this one," she muttered to herself.

She took her heels off, stood and headed towards the door, hoping she'd be able to sneak out. As she quietly turned the knob and pushed the door open, she found herself looking into the surprised face of a beefy guy. He cursed and reached to grab her, but she ducked under his arm and bolted down the hall. A scrawny guy came at her from the right, but she managed to throw her elbow into his face and kicked his ankle causing it to buckle and sending him tumbling towards the ground.

She turned to flee in the opposite direction but found Beefy holding a gun in her face. She stopped short and threw her hands up instinctively.

Scrawny appeared in front of her. She took a little bit of pleasure seeing blood gushing from his nose.

"You bitch," he said before backhanding her. She tasted blood from her lip. "Put her with the others," Scrawny told Beefy. "Don't rough her up too much; boss says she's worth a lot."

He grabbed her roughly by her hair and pushed her towards another door. It led to an open area but she paused and tripped over her feet when she saw what was inside.

A group of people all huddled together on the floor. Her mind automatically started to count, but she lost track after twenty. None of them looked at her as she was shoved roughly to the ground. Her knee hit first followed by her palms. Sharp pain reverberated through her.

Beefy grabbed her hands and yanked them behind her back, securing them with a zip tie. When he finished, he grabbed her jaw and squeezed. "Ain't you a purty thing." She jerked her head back, but it only made him tighten his grip. His other hand reached out for her breast, and she drew a knee up to block him. She caught him in the side with a kick, but there wasn't enough power behind it to do any harm.

"We got a few hours yet. Maybe if you're nice to me…"

"Go to hell," she replied.

He drew his hand back and she braced herself for a hit that never came. Beefy, or Carl, as he was being called from the other room, stood up. He bent and grabbed her chin tightly saying, "Later," before leaving.

The track lighting was dim, but she could see her surroundings clearly. Most of the people were women; some had their hands bound while others were free. There were a few men in the group, and from where she sat, Felicity was horrified to see at least two children.

The zip ties were cutting off her circulation, but she tried to move them around. She'd learned how to break a zip tie if her arms were in front of her, but she hadn't mastered how to do so when bound behind her.

She quickly figured out what was happening here, and it was not good. She wasn't too familiar with human trafficking, had only seen a few specials on Dateline or 20/20, but she knew enough to be scared.

She was able to catch the eye of a woman near her and started to speak, but stopped when the woman shook her head curtly and looked away.

The last time she'd been kidnapped, she knew Oliver would come for her. She hadn't been too sure how it would all play out, but she knew he would come. She'd been there when The Count placed the call from her cell. And while she'd been utterly terrified, her mind had been occupied because The Count had been a very talkative kidnapper; he'd never shut up.

No one was talking here. She heard the occasional whimper, but it was few and far between.

As the minutes passed, a cold feeling washed over her. She knew Oliver would try to find her, but she wasn't confident that he would.

To avoid panicking, she went over what she would do if this was a job. The hotel had security cameras. Hopefully, Bruce knew she wouldn't have blown him off and would check up on her when she didn't arrive at the restaurant. Her real concern was time. How long had she been unconscious? How long before anyone started looking? How long before she was moved?

Random thoughts ran through her mind. A lock of hair kept falling in her eyes. She remembered her appointment in two weeks to get her roots touched up. Her salon _would_ charge her if she was a no show. She had an orchid on her desk that her friend Ellen in Finance had given her. It was a small source of pride that it was still alive. If she wasn't there to water it, how long before it died?

She worried about the lair. Oliver's set up pre-her had just been embarrassing. He wouldn't know which updates were needed and when it was time to upgrade their equipment. Maybe he'd find a replacement. She tried to blow the lock of hair out of her face. It fell back. He wouldn't, no couldn't, find anyone as good as she, not in Starling. But if he looked outside the city…maybe…

She thought about her parents, how worried they would be when they didn't receive their weekly Saturday call.

She thought about John, who had become her big brother in everything but blood. He would blame himself for not being here.

And she thought of Oliver. Of all the things she wished she could tell him. How proud she was of him. That he was already a hero even if he didn't believe it yet. She hoped this didn't derail his mission. And she hoped he knew, though she'd never said it, how deeply she loved him.

She guessed that over two hours had passed since she'd been put with the others. Her shoulders hurt and her feet were cold. She'd mapped the room she was in four times already. She didn't know if she could make a run for it, or if that would even be smart, but she intended to be ready should the opportunity arise. Her legs were drawn tight to her chest, and her head rested on her knees. It wasn't comfortable, but neither was every other position she'd tried.

She heard glass breaking from behind her but couldn't scoot around fast enough to see.

The lights went out one by one sending glass shards raining down. Felicity ducked her head and tried again to get her wrists free.

There was a metallic clink from behind her. She turned and looked up under her fall of hair to see a greyish-white smoke begin to fill the room. She rocked around on her hip and perched on her knees, gaining her balance to rise to her feet.

People had started shouting and crying out in confusion, and she was knocked off balance when a person bumped into her.

She heard yells and gunfire coming from the outer area and couldn't stop the bloom of hope that began to spread in her chest.

A large body appeared next to her and she felt them cut the zip tie. They hauled her upwards and tucked her under their chin before shooting a line from a grappling gun to the upper catwalk area. Black material blocked out her vision before she felt herself being lifted into the air.

When she felt her feet touch the floor, Felicity leaned back and looked up into a face that would have frightened her if he hadn't just provided rescue.

"You're not my hero," tumbled out before she could stop it.

If there had been more light, she might have seen the corner of his mouth give the slightest twitch. "He's around here somewhere," he replied.

Her eyes widened, "Oh my God, that was horrible. I'm so sorry. Thank you so much. I didn't mean…" He held up a hand to stop her and opened the door they were near.

"Take these stairs to the roof. There's a ladder on the far side. Take a right at the bottom. There's a black car waiting. Get in."

He moved to jump over the railing to the ground, but her voice stopped him.

"No. I can't leave. These people. I have to help."

He cut her off. "They'll all be taken care of. Go. Now."

It didn't sound like he was willing to negotiate so Felicity nodded and went through the door. A blast of cold air hit her as she opened the door to the roof. The gravel and debris cut her feet a few times making her way from the rooftop to the ground, but she didn't encounter any obstacles otherwise. She spotted a black car waiting by the curb and stumbled towards it. It was the only one running on the street, the exhaust ghosting out from the rear.

She opened the rear driver's side door and fell into the back. She had scarcely shut the door before the car began to move.

"You're okay, Miss," the driver said in a British accent.

She nodded shakily before spotting a bottle of water. She took off the cap and drank greedily. She met the driver's eyes in the mirror; he had kind eyes, she thought.

"There a bottle of pain relievers back there, too. It might help if you took a few."

Her hands were shaking and it took a few tries to get the lid off. She downed two pills and collapsed back against the seat.

"We'll be home soon, get you patched up. You'll be right as rain in the morning."

She tried to smile but it looked more like a grimace. She laid her cheek against the cool leather and watched out the window as they crossed a bridge, the city disappearing behind them.

Oliver easily took out the guards by the door he targeted. No one had been expecting trouble and they clearly weren't prepared when they got it. There had only been three guards inside, and they were disarmed easily. One already had a broken nose; he'd been given a matching wrist after pointing his gun at Oliver.

He opened the door to the main room and found it filled with smoke. People were milling around chaotically, and he looked around frantically for Felicity. A figure appeared beside him and he drew instinctively. His fellow vigilante faced him unperturbed.

"She's safe."

Oliver lowered his bow and felt his world right again.

"We need to leave."

Oliver looked at the scared people surrounding him. "What about…"

"The police know what they'll find here; they'll be taken care of." He turned and disappeared into the smoke, the cape billowing behind him. Oliver reluctantly admitted it had a bit of flair.

They stood silently side-by-side on the roof and watched as the taillights faded into the distance while the noise of approaching sirens began to grow louder.

"Where is she being taken?"

"Wayne Manor."

Oliver nodded. "You're Wayne's police contact?" he asked. He didn't receive an answer.

"You learned a lot in five years."

It was said low, but Oliver heard him clearly and knew exactly what was unsaid. He turned his head sharply but was only met with an enigmatic stare.

There was no point in denial. "Yes. I did," was his measured response.

He received a nod in return.

"You handled yourself well. But you need to work on controlling your emotions."

Oliver looked at him incredulous. "I wasn't aware this was a test."

The Bat crossed his arms and stared back. Even with all Oliver had lived through, he still found it a tad unnerving.

"I…appreciate your help," he said reluctantly. Felicity would be proud of him for that one even if she wouldn't like his tone.

"Enjoy your trip back to Starling City."

The message was clear, and Oliver looked out across the rooftops at a city so similar, yet not, to his own. When he glanced back to his side, he was alone.


	8. Chapter 8

_Pretty short update. This includes the drabble, "Promise," which started this whole shebang, though there's a few tweaks to make it fit the storyline. xoxo_

Oliver backtracked through the city, reclaimed his civilian clothes and managed to grab a cab out to Wayne Manor. Bruce had met him at the door, explaining that he'd gotten a call from the police Commissioner informing him they had found Felicity. He'd sent his personal butler to pick her up. He then asked him how he knew to come to the Manor since Oliver hadn't answered any of his phone calls.

Oliver made up a story about how someone from GCPD had called him. It was paper thin and easily disproved, but he really didn't care at the moment. Bruce had looked at him strangely but hadn't questioned him further. Oliver didn't even try to explain why he had a duffle bag with him.

He should probably care about how this was all going to play out, but he was more focused on getting to Felicity. He needed to see her, touch her, prove to himself she was safe.

Oliver stopped at the door where Bruce had directed him, his hand gripping the doorknob. He couldn't quite bring himself to turn it. The night's events crashed down around him and he felt it weighing him down. He leaned his forehead against the door as his eyes slid shut.

If Bruce hadn't called him. If Rick hadn't taken her cell. If The Bat hadn't shown up to help. If they'd been too late. If. If. If.

Felicity thought she heard someone outside the door, but the room was so massive she figured she could have imagined it. She pulled the bed covers back before slowly climbing into the bed. She didn't know the thread count but they were much softer than her own sheets. The rich really did live better. She knew tomorrow everything would hurt, but right now, her senses were pretty dulled.

The British man had taken her to a room and cleaned her wounds. He'd told her that her luggage was being brought over from the hotel and given her a large t-shirt and a robe to wear. The bathroom had a massive claw foot tub that she really wanted to use, but with her luck she'd fall asleep and drown. She'd taken a quick shower instead, washing off what was left of her makeup as well as the grime and gross feeling of the warehouse. She'd tossed her contacts and changed wondering fuzzily where Oliver was.

She winced as she flexed her hand stretching the scabs covering her knuckles. Was it really possible that hours ago she had been dancing with Bruce Wayne? That her biggest problem had been mitigating two billionaire's egos?

She was in that pleasant hazy state between awake and asleep when she felt fingertips brush her forehead and trail down over her bruised cheek. She felt the bed shift and when she cracked open one eye she found a pair of intense blues staring back.

She studied his face for a minute. He looked drained, and she wished she had more energy to comfort him.

"I didn't know if you'd find me," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

He started to protest, but she covered his lips with a finger.

"I knew you would look. But Gotham's a big city; you don't know it like home. And…and people disappear all the time."

His hand wrapped around hers but didn't move her hand. "I would _never_ have stopped looking for you."

The side of her mouth tipped upwards. She couldn't keep her eyes open anymore and they slid shut. "But I figured…if you, and Sara, could survive…everything…then maybe I had a chance, too. Well, without the masked crime fighting. I think I make a better side kick. "

She didn't have to open her eyes to know he was trying not to smile. "You make the _best_ side kick."

"Thank you. Again."

He could tell the exact moment she lost consciousness. He needed to go talk to Bruce. He needed to make sure the other people held with Felicity would have continued care. He needed to find out how much information was out there about the Arrow and The Bat working together. He needed to do a lot of things. But he didn't move.

Instead he stared at the woman he'd made a promise to protect. And he began to accept that somewhere along the way that promise had become a vow.

He'd told her he couldn't be with someone he cared about because of the life he led. He'd meant that, but he'd somehow overlooked that two other people already led that life alongside him. Two others who also put their lives in danger on a daily basis. And lied to everyone they loved about who they really were.

She deserved better than him. Someone without his demons and scars. Someone she could lead a normal life with.

He moved her hand to his chest, over his heart.

She deserved better than him. But he'd always been a selfish man.


	9. Chapter 9

_One chapter left. I should be able to put it up tomorrow. Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoy it._

The sunlight teased her from behind closed eyelids. Felicity groaned before opening one eye than another. A blurry figure stood by the window – she assumed it was Oliver. Seconds after sitting up she decided that had been a bad idea. Everything hurt. Even parts that hadn't been hit, scraped, or bashed hurt. How was that even possible? She slid off the bed and padded over to him. She didn't have her glasses so she didn't see how rigidly he was holding himself until she was right next to him.

She angled her head in front of him and looked up. He was staring out the window and she thought his grip on the windowsill might break it.

"I'm okay."

He sighed and finally looked down at her, grimacing as he took in her bruises and scrapes. "But you almost weren't."

"But I am. I mean, yeah, I feel like I've been run over by a large truck, not that that's happened before, but I'm pretty sure this is what that would feel like." She tentatively put her hand on his forearm. "And there's nothing that's broken or won't heal eventually. Besides, now you know how I feel."

He frowned and looked at her confused.

"You know how you, or Digg, or Sara come back every night with some new wound? One of you has been stabbed or shot or beaten? It breaks my heart every time. And every time you blow it off like it's nothing or that 'you've had worse.' Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?

"Besides, all of this," she gestured up and down her body, "all of this was worth it to help those people."

He absently shook his head.

"Yes, Oliver. There were kids in there. Kids. And they were less scared than I was. We were being held in a warehouse by guys with guns and the majority of those people were resigned. What kind of life were they leading if any of that was okay?"

He clenched his jaw but didn't respond.

"So, while I am done with being kidnapped – believe me, I have crossed that off my to-do list – I can't be upset that this happened. We stopped something truly horrible from happening, and I can't regret that. Isn't that what we do? The whole reason we're doing any of this?

And now, I'm going to go take a bath in that ridiculous, heavenly bathtub in there. And you're going to get over your angst, and everything we'll be fine." She looked around the room. "I think Jeeves said my clothes were here somewhere," she muttered.

"Jeeves?"

She spotted her suitcase and headed towards it. "Well, I was a little shell shocked when I met him, and then I was all drugged up when I remembered to ask his name so I don't actually remember it. But he seemed like a Jeeves. British. Called me 'Miss.'"

He turned towards her and leaned back against the windowsill. "It's Alfred."

Walking towards the bathroom with a handful of toiletries and clothes, she responded, "Alfred! Yes. That sounds vaguely familiar." She smiled slightly before shutting the door. "I still think he looks like a Jeeves."

Oliver smiled and shook his head after she closed the door. He knew she was right about everything, but while he had no problem taking hits (both physically and emotionally) it was hard to watch someone he…cared about…no, loved…going through the same.

He'd been terrified when the Count had Felicity, but that hadn't even begun to match what he'd felt when he couldn't find her last night. He hadn't known where to begin to look. He relied on her to give _him_ that information. It hadn't been connected to The Hood or Oliver Queen, and that randomness made it all the more terrifying.

Felicity tossed her stuff on the counter and grimaced when she got a good look at herself in the mirror. The bruises were darker and swollen. The scrapes had scabbed over on her temple, cheek and jaw. She remembered that guy backhanding her and later stumbling to the ground, hitting her knee and scraping her palms on the asphalt.

An involuntary sob escaped before she could cut it off and tears slid down her cheeks. She'd meant every word she'd said to Oliver, but seeing the aftermath brought back each feeling of fear, anger, and helplessness she'd felt. She backed away from the mirror and hit the wall before sliding down it. The tears were falling faster than she could wipe them away.

She heard Oliver calling her name but it sounded really far away. The bright white walls of the bathroom turned to grey concrete and she could hear the whimpers of the people around her, smell the sweat and stench. She felt someone grab her shoulders and repeat her name. She knew it was Oliver, but her eyes were closed tight and all she could see was the beefy guy; the one who said he'd take a turn at her before shipping her off. His breath had smelled like ash and rot, and his palm had been sweaty and oddly smooth.

She didn't know what exactly brought her back to reality, if it was pure sensory overload, or if it was Oliver quietly telling her she was safe, she was okay, slowly rocking her back and forth in his embrace. He was sitting behind her, and her back was against his chest. The side of his temple was pressed against her own, and he'd wrapped both arms around her. She shuddered and collapsed back against him.

A few minutes passed and she could finally breathe evenly again. "Ah God, this is embarrassing." She tried to pull away, but he tightened his grip. She let herself enjoy it for a few moments before drawing herself away and turning until she faced him.

"I'm okay," she said.

"You're clearly not," he interjected.

"Okay, fine, I might still be dealing with what happened. But I meant everything I said out there. That's not going to change because I'm having trouble processing a really crappy experience."

He started to argue, but she cut him off. "No. No more." The concerned look made her soften. "At least, not right now. Right now, I have a date with that bathtub." She used the edge of the counter to pull herself up. Oliver didn't move from his position on the floor until she implored him with a soft, "Please."

He stood and stared at her for a long moment before slowly taking her wrists in both hands and rubbing over the bruises caused from the zip ties. He let out a rough exhale and tugged her into his arms. A fresh wave of tears sprung to her eyes, but she felt safe. He held her for a minute before sighing "I can't lose you" into her hair.

She mumbled, "You won't. Not today," back into his chest before gently shoving him towards the door.


	10. Chapter 10

Oliver had woken to 15 missed calls from Roger frantic to find him. He decided to take pity on the man and told him that he and his old boarding school pal had decided to relive their youth. He told him to bring the car out to Wayne Manor along with his luggage. Alfred had given him some of Bruce's clothes to wear.

Felicity had emerged from her bath looking a bit more like herself. She had on jeans and a grey and red MIT hoodie. Her hair was damp and in its usual ponytail. She rummaged around in her suitcase, letting out a low cheer when she found her glasses. He noticed she was walking gingerly and asked her about it.

When she said she'd cut her feet, he took a step to pick her up but stopped at her alarmed expression. "I _do not_ need to be carried." He disagreed but didn't fight her. If she hadn't brought out a pair of flats, he might have done it anyway.

Felicity followed Oliver down an enormous staircase and found Bruce waiting at the bottom.

He smiled at her gently. "My apologies for the way Gotham treated you. That's not how I wanted our evening to end."

"It's alright, not your fault."

"Still. I'm glad you're safe."

"Me too," she smiled. "And please, thank Jee, uh, I mean Alfred for getting my stuff. Especially these," she pointed to her glasses.

Bruce directed her to a table covered with a large breakfast spread. Her stomach growled and she remembered she hadn't eaten anything since the ball. She still felt a bit queasy, though, and opted for some toast and fruit.

Oliver held out his hand to Bruce. "Thanks for your help last night. For calling in a favor," he said sincerely. "Felicity said that The Bat saved her."

Bruce shook his hand but looked confused. "I just placed a call to the police Commissioner." He laughed. "Wait. You think I know that psychopath who dresses up and runs around Gotham? Hardly. He's a menace.

"But, hey, I'm not going to complain about _how_ Felicity was rescued." He looked over at her fondly. "As long as she _was_ rescued."

Felicity glanced back at the two men. "But maybe the next meeting could take place at Queen Consolidated?"

Bruce smiled, "I think that could be arranged. Perhaps a personal tour of Starling City would be in order."

"Absolutely," she grinned.

Oliver frowned. "She's busy."

"Not that busy," she rejoined.

Later, as they were readying to leave, Bruce pulled Felicity aside and handed her a business card.

"My email; I'll be waiting to hear from you."

"And you shall."

"You know, he does…care."

She sighed, "I know he does. It's just…wait." She looked at him suspiciously. "What game are you playing?"

He smirked and held up his hands in surrender. "No game. I promise. I just…like you."

She smiled wryly, "You seem surprised."

"It's…rare in my life."

She impulsively threw her arms around Bruce and hugged him. He froze before relaxing and returned the hug.

They pulled apart to find Oliver looking at them with barely concealed irritation. "Time to leave."

She gave Bruce an apologetic look. "Sorry. I'm not quite sure why I did that. You sort of looked like you needed one, so I…"

"It's okay. It was…nice."

Felicity smiled up at him before grabbing one of his hands and giving it a quick squeeze.

They walked outside into the sunshine. Roger was holding the rear door open and she slid inside moving across the bench seat to make room for Oliver.

Bruce turned to Oliver. "Can I give you some advice?"

"No. But I doubt that will stop you," he sighed.

"We both know she's better than both of us combined."

"No argument here."

"Regardless, I intend on making up for last night when I visit next month."

"That doesn't sound like advice; it sounds like a threat."

Bruce cocked his head. "Now, why would my interest in your assistant be a threat?"

"Leave her alone, Wayne."

"Give me a reason, Queen."

The knowing look of Bruce's face caused Oliver's hand to clench.

Bruce sighed and gazed over at the north end of the property. When he looked back, Oliver saw an expression he'd never seen from Bruce. Sincerity. And for the first time since they met years before, Oliver watched the façade fall.

"The people we care about can be taken from us in a heartbeat. Not just from a kidnapping. From accidents, disease, or," he paused briefly, "a mugger looking for some quick cash.

You've managed to get a second chance with your resurrection. Don't waste it."

Oliver responded with a nod. "Understood," he said quietly.

Felicity couldn't hear what the two men were saying, but leaving them alone for too long never led to anything good. She leaned over and popped her head out of the car. "You two, I swear. Stop posturing. Get in the car, Oliver. I'll see you later, Bruce." She reached out and grabbed Oliver's sleeve tugging him towards the inside.

Oliver sat silently in thought as they drove away while Felicity turned in the seat with an enthusiastic wave to Bruce.

"You realize if you two cooperated, you could probably take over half the world," she mused. "Hmm, on second thought, I don't know if I can see you teaming up."

At his arched eyebrow, she questioned, "What?"

"Only half?"

She shook her head, groaned, and leaned over to squeeze his knee. "You are not the funny one, Oliver."

He choked on a laugh and felt some of the tension he'd been carrying around fade.

"Neither are you."

"No, I'm the smart one."

"Diggle?"

"Hmmm…maybe. Possibly Barry. Not Sara."

He leaned back in the seat and listened as she debated with herself. Even with the past evening's events, she was still so animated and full of life. And every question and doubt he had suddenly disappeared.

Oliver helped her out of the car but didn't let go of her hand as they headed towards the jet. She gave him an odd look and he merely returned it with a raised eyebrow.

"You get to explain to Digg what happened," she said.

He sighed, already imagining the judgmental looks and lectures they both would receive.

"I'm blaming it all on Wayne. It's his city." Oliver stopped walking abruptly. The thought that flitted through his mind was ridiculous. He brushed it aside and started up the jet's stairs.

"What was that about?"

"Nothing." He shook his head absently. "Nothing," he said with more conviction.

"Don't think we're not going to talk about why you had your Arrow gear with you," she stated.

"I was hoping you'd overlook that," he replied.

Her nose wrinkled. "Nope."

He sighed dramatically. "Later?"

She smiled, "Yes, later."

She couldn't wait to get all the details on Oliver working with The Bat, but her stifled yawn told her she'd have to wait until she was more alert. As she slouched into the bench seat and watched as Oliver hovered nearby, she mused that Gotham was lucky to have its own vigilante even if he wasn't a handsome playboy billionaire.

Felicity bolted upright, her eyes wide. "Oh my God."

Oliver stiffened and looked concerned. "What's wrong?"

She looked at him curiously but said nothing. What are the odds that two of the richest men in the world had become vigilantes? But then, what were the odds that the two vigilantes weren't the richest men in the world?

She sputtered a laugh and relaxed back in her seat, grabbing his forearm and giving it a quick squeeze. "You know what? Never mind. Just had a crazy thought. It's nothing."

He looked at her strangely, but she just grinned. Oliver had his demons he was trying to exorcise. And if she was right, maybe Bruce had his own as well. It was comforting to know there were others out there trying to right wrongs. Willing to risk their own life for the safety of people they didn't know. Maybe someday, she'd share her theory with Oliver.

She flinched in surprise when Oliver slung his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.

"Oliver…?"

"You look tired; you should rest."

And while she thought there was no way she could "rest" when she was plastered up against him, she found her body relaxing into his. She leaned her head into his shoulder and her eyes slid shut. She felt his chin rest on her head before he spoke.

"When I was on the island, the only thing I wanted was to survive. To live."

She felt around until she found his hand, lacing their fingers together.

"Somewhere along the way, with the list, and with Tommy's death, I gave up on that. But you…you never gave up on me," he sounded bemused.

"And I never will."

He brushed his lips across her forehead.

"But I think…I think maybe you're right."

"I usually am. About what?"

The hand on her shoulder moved to trace her jaw, tilting her head up. She opened her eyes and stared into his. He tilted his head and a smile played at the corners of his mouth.

"I deserve better."

Her eyes widened. "Yeah, you do." At his continued stare, she became flustered. "Oh. Um, I…I didn't mean me," she whispered.

The smile that spread across his face was gentle and the look in his eyes was full of affection.

"Oh no no no, this is because of last night. Because you were scared. This isn't real."

He shook his head. "It's not because of last night."

"Bruce? You think he's going to lure me away. He's not. I mean, don't get me wrong, I would enjoy letting him try. He's very…"

"Not. Bruce," he growled.

She tried to pull her hand away from his but he tightened his grip. Her chest felt tight. "Oliver…" she drawled.

"Felicity," he answered. The look he gave her was full of everything he couldn't say, didn't have words for.

"I want some happy stories. With you."

A tear slid down her cheek and he reached to wipe it away.

"It'll be…complicated."

He smiled. "Is _anything_ we do _not_ complicated?"

"Mmm. Point."

"Besides, I have a feeling this might be the easiest thing we've ever done."

"You think?"

"Yeah, I think."

_Epilogue_

A month later Bruce was in a cave below his house training vigorously. His muscles ached when he finished, and he grabbed a towel to wipe away the sweat. Throwing it around his neck, he saw his phone flashing with a message.

He was scheduled to leave for Starling City the next morning to continue partnership discussions with Queen Consolidated. He'd already made dinner plans with a certain EA. They'd struck up an easy correspondence this past month and he was looking forward to seeing her again. He hadn't been lying, he did like her, and he found her to be a good resource for his nocturnal exploits.

He hadn't told her why he needed her tech support and advice and she hadn't asked, but he wasn't naïve enough to underestimate her intelligence. She'd seen through his playboy demeanor immediately, and it wouldn't surprise him if she seen through other things as well.

He'd known Oliver Queen's other identity long before their meeting a month ago. A long presumed dead figure resurfaces at the same time as an arrow toting vigilante? It hadn't taken much investigation or deduction to put two and two together.

Bruce wouldn't have wished having Felicity's life being in danger for any reason, but he would take that unfortunate opportunity to determine whether Arrow was a friend or foe. Ultimately, he decided he wouldn't interfere in Queen's work as long as the courtesy was returned.

He grabbed his phone. Though the message was from Felicity's number, it was Queen's voice in all its pompous glory.

"Wayne. Felicity won't be able to meet you for dinner tomorrow night. Something came up and she needs to cancel."

Bruce heard a muffled voice in the background. "Cancel what? Oliver, why do you have my phone? Who are you talking to? What are…? Are you _serious_ right now? I thought you two came to some understanding. Just because we're…something…now doesn't mean I don't get to have dinner with a friend. Give me my phone. Now. No, now. I swear, I will transfer your shares to Bruce and he will own QC by morning if you don't…"

Felicity's voice became clear. "Hey, Bruce, yeah, sorry about that. Someone clearly hasn't had their nap today. Disregard all of that. I'll see you tomorrow and we'll pick a restaurant then. Oliver says 'Hi'."

"No, I don't," came a muted retort.

"He does. Bye!"

Bruce laughed. It was weird and foreign but felt right. It appeared Queen had taken his advice, and he was glad for it. That didn't mean he couldn't remind him that Felicity wasn't someone he should take for granted.

He wondered what would aggravate Queen more. If he sent flowers or gifts. He thought she might be a daisy or tulip girl, but Samsung had a new tablet that was in the beta stages he was sure she would love.

He sent both.

_Fin_

**And we're done! Thanks to everyone who read, followed, or commented. It blows me away that someone would take time to read what I've written, and I appreciate it sooo very much.**


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